


Heatwave

by itsalwayssunnyit



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Banter, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Not Beta Read, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwayssunnyit/pseuds/itsalwayssunnyit
Summary: Not only is it the hottest day of the decade but the air-conditioning in the tech lab has also just decided to go ahead and die on Adam and Frank, who happen to be trying to finish the report of their last busted operation while Frank smells like living sin for some reason while being a goddamn tease on top of it. Shameless smut.
Relationships: Adam Jensen/Francis Pritchard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Heatwave

**Author's Note:**

> well, as usual, no beta here, all mistakes are mine, let me know if I messed up anywhere, pretty-please?  
> also, this is NOT omegaverse despite having the word heat in the title, just so we're clear

There are days when you can only think that god, fate or whatever is in control of this whole mess can only be _fucking_ with you.

And then there are days like this one, when you’re absolutely _sure_ of it.

Not only is it the hottest day of the decade but also the air-conditioning unity in the tech lab has just decided to go ahead and die on Adam and Frank. And of course they could always move to Adam’s office and they would have, had Adam not huffed an impatient, “Let’s just get this over with,” when Frank tried to suggest it.

“Alright, then,” Frank groans back, peeling his jacket off his overheated body as if it requires some great effort of him. The irony that they have scientists and technicians working on cutting-edge technology all over the building but can’t seem to figure out how to get their cooling systems to work consistently is not lost on him, but he’s too hot and too pissed off to worry about it now, so he throws his jacket over the back of his chair and goes back to typing the report of their last busted operation.

Adam leans over Frank, trying to see what he is writing. As he does so, he tries to take a deep, calming breath, but the air comes in warm and thick with whatever woodsy aftershave Frank has on.

It smells good, damn it. Adam frowns.

The scent is familiar in a way that it shouldn’t be, warm enough to make him forget to pay attention to what he’s trying to read. He has to start the paragraph all over again, lips moving as he reads on.

Frank stops typing and glances over his shoulder in annoyance. Adam leans even closer and gets himself a good lungful of Frank, only half on purpose. It’s the type of scent that brings up the image of sharply cut suits, leather seats on luxury cars, of things dark and dangerous, not of _Frank Pritchard_.

Frank cracks his knuckles for the millionth time. Adam offers, “Do you want me to type now?”

Frank rolls his shoulders, his white turtleneck stretching across his back for a second. “I’m faster,” he replies, voice tense in places Adam can’t understand. “It’s just- this fucking _heat_. I can barely think.”

Frank gestures angrily as he speaks and Adam realizes he can also smell Frank’s _sweat_ on top of everything else. It has to be the heat that’s messing with Adam’s head, but it’s not offensive in the slightest, that scent.

On the contrary.

“Let me type the next session,” Adam offers again, voice a lot more sure than he actually feels. “I was the one who was actually there.”

Frank sighs dramatically and spins his chair around. “Fine.”

He stands up. And Adam had every intention of taking a step back, you see. He’s is not a fan of having his personal space invaded and he wouldn’t do that to somebody else, even if that someone is, well, _Frank_.

And yet, he can’t seem to be able to move out of Frank’s way.

Because as Frank stands up, he throws a cloud of that scent straight at Adam’s face and Adam frowns. Frank mirrors his frown and escalates it by crossing his arms and huffing in displeasure.

“What is it, Jensen?” He asks. “You wanted to type, didn’t you? Go ahead. _Type_.”

Adam can’t find a retort quickly enough and he wants to blame the way Frank says the word — type, like he’s spitting it. Adam soon gets started on the rest of the report. It’s still weird, even after all these months, typing with these hands. He keeps underestimating the pressure, stumbling on the wrong keys.

Frank snorts, effectively yanking Adam’s focus off of the report.

“Suggestion has a double ‘g’,” the tech helpfully offers. Adam rolls his eyes even though they’re hidden behind his shades and nods at the computer.

“Why don’t you have a spellchecker on this thing?”

“Too much jargon and technical stuff.” Adam is almost surprised when Frank actually answers. “The dictionary can’t keep up.”

It’s Adam’s turn to snort. He doesn’t respond any further, though, and in the silence that stretches as Adam writes Frank decides to take his sweater off as well. The heat is really getting to him, Adam thinks. Adam is not very bothered by it himself. It used to bother him. _Before_.

Now, though, there’s barely a prickle of sweat on the nape of his neck.

Adam chances a look at Frank, just to make sure the tech hasn’t spontaneously combusted or something, and immediately understands why it took Frank so long to take the sweater off.

“Very… _punk_ ,” Adam flatly says to Frank’s black Misfits tank top. It can barely be called a tank top, though. It’s old and worn soft and cut so loosely that Adam can see the dip where Frank’s ribcage give way to the soft skin of his waist.

Adam swallows. His mouth wasn’t that dry a minute ago.

Frank doesn’t look at Adam, but his jaw is tight and there’s a blush high on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the hellish heatwave they’re facing.

“Shut up and type, Jensen,” Frank says after a stretch of uncomfortable silence. Adam obeys, but the smug smirk on his lips can’t be erased and Frank sees red when he notices it. “I haven’t done laundry in weeks, alright? _Stop_ judging me.”

“I didn’t _say_ anything,” Adam replies, stifling a laugh as his fingers dance across the keyboard, no idea what he’s even writing anymore.

“You didn’t _have_ to,” Frank replies, leaning over Adam’s right shoulder to peek at the screen. Adam tries to keep on writing, but Frank is _so close_ to him and, well, it’s not like Adam _never_ thought of his colleague in a less… professional manner, but Frank has never got to him like this.

But then, again, Adam also never had to work in such close proximity with Frank when he was smelling and looking like… like…

“A feast? What are you writing, Jensen?” Frank interrupts Adam’s train of thought and Adam promptly deletes the last couple of words with an annoyed groan.

“Do you _have_ to hover? You’re distracting me,” he complains.

Frank reaches over Adam’s arm and points at the screen. “There’s a typo, there.”

Adam reads the words ‘advertisesment’ three times before he notices what’s wrong. He fixes it and leans back on the chair, blood and adrenaline rushing through his veins as if he’s suddenly in danger. He might as well be, he thinks, looking to the side just in time to catch the black ink on Frank’s arm disappearing into the tank top he’s wearing. Huh.

He had forgotten about Frank’s tattoos. He knew Frank had them, of course, they’re both more than familiar with each other’s employee files, but he had never been able to find out what the design is.

“Do you want me to take your coat?” Frank offers, gathering his sweater and jacket in his arms.

“Huh?”

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Outside the tech lab, their busy coworkers are walking around, talking to one another. Adam has to get himself together or he’ll end up saying or doing something that shouldn’t even be considered in such a setting.

“Your coat. I’ll leave it on the couch with my stuff if you want.” Frank blinks. “You look flushed. Feeling the heat, are you?”

“Sure,” Adam replies. As he takes off his coat, his body feels even more alien than usual, the black material of his arms adding yet another level to his discomfort. His voice sounds rougher than usual when he mutters a quiet, “Thanks.”

It’s civil, after that. And it’s weird. Adam sits back down and types away. Frank gets them some water and ice from the cafeterias and they switch places when he returns so that he can check what Adam wrote.

“So?” Adam asks when Frank is done reading.

“It’s good enough,” Frank declares, leaning back. His fingers slide into his hair, undoing the ponytail and smoothing the locks for a second before tying everything up again. Adam finds himself wishing he didn’t. Frank’s hair doesn’t look particularly tidy or smooth, but Adam kind of wants to see it loose, kind of wants to touch it. “What is it now, Jensen?”

“What?”

“I can tell you’re staring.” Frank raises an eyebrow. “You have those shades, but I’m not dumb. Out with it.”

Frank looks almost bored, but Adam is not easily fooled. He has so many walls up that Adam can’t even begin to comprehend. Adam still wants to just straddle him and kiss them all away.

Frank swallows, eyes hardening, and Adam follows the movement of his throat, that long, pale neck just begging to be bitten. Oh, Adam bets Frank bruises so easily.

Frank looks away first, hands going to the back of his own neck as he arches up into a stretch. Adam _stares_. Thank God for his shades. He can’t _not_ stare. There’s a mole on Frank’s triceps, a dark patch of soft-looking hair on his armpit, and dark lines that insinuate the design of the tattoo on his back and it’s suddenly very hard for Adam to swallow. To breathe. To _think_.

“That smell,” Adam blurts out. Frank raises an eyebrow and immediately lowers his arms, self-conscious.

“I _did_ shower this morning, Jensen, what on Earth are you _talking_ about?”

“Did you shave?”

Frank faces closes off, eyes darting around, looking everywhere but at Adam. “Of course. I have to. Otherwise I look homeless.” A tremor on his voice. C.A.S.I.E makes sure Adam doesn’t miss it. “Not all of us are able to show off their facial hair and still be employed, Jensen.”

Adam fights back an eye roll.

“Did you use aftershave?”

Frank scowls as if his scowl along would be able to hide the realization slowly spreading across his face.

“No,” he lies.

Adam scoffs.

“You’re lying,” he accuses even though he doesn’t know why Frank would lie about something so silly and so _obvious_.

“I’m _not_ ,” Frank replies, sitting up straighter on the chair. Adam leans down.

“Come here,” is what he says. _I’m going to sniff you and you’re going to let me_ , is what he doesn’t.

Frank holds himself very still when Adam leans in, almost like he’s trying not to spook a particularly wild horse. Adam tries to be mindful of Frank’s space as much as he can. He doesn’t even use his hands, just leans in so that his nose is two or three inches away from Frank’s neck and then.

Inhales.

“Mmmm,” Adam can’t help but sigh. This up close he’s dizzy with it. Musk. Cedar. Geranium. “You’re wearing _cologne_.”

Frank pauses.

“How the _fuck_ can you tell?” He sounds almost offended. _Too_ offended. “Did they install some perfume recognition add-on on you I don’t know about?”

Adam is not buying it. Frank knew they would be working together today. That they had a report to finish. And he definitely doesn’t smell like this usually.

Adam would have noticed it.

“It’s good. Very good,” Adam purrs and if he does so a bit closer than what would be appropriate, Frank doesn’t seem about to complain considering the way he shivers from head to toes, breathing shallowly, pupils widening. Adam’s voice lowers into a whisper as he admits, “I kind of like it.”

When Frank looks at Adam, they’re nose to nose, tension in the air between them thick and electric. Adam looks down at Frank’s chest rising and falling under the tank top and wonders if that, too, was on purpose. That shirt.

Adam’s answer is in Frank’s smirk.

“I thought you’d play harder to get,” Frank says, posture relaxing in a deceitfully submissive way that has Adam almost growling.

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Is the AC really broken?”

“‘fraid so,” Frank replies, one hand coming up to rest on top of Adam’s vest, daring, curious fingers, long and elegant, playing with the straps without really undoing any of them. Adam doesn’t pull away. He likes where this is going, but…

But.

“The report is going to be late,” Adam warns.

“It’s not like anyone’s looking forward to it, anyway,” Frank replies, still snarky, but now Adam recognizes the heat underneath it. “ _Are_ you going to kiss me anytime soon?”

Frank is such a little shit Adam almost doesn’t lean in for it. _Almost_. When he does, however, Frank pulls back and complains, “Can you at least get those things off your eyes, first?”

Adam’s shades retract with a quiet sound. He has to fight off the impulse to hide from Frank’s gaze. It’s not even that he doesn’t want Frank to see his eyes, but most people don’t usually enjoy the sight of them, the sharp golden glint around his irises. Unnatural. Inhuman. But there’s no hesitation when Frank closes the distance between their lips, only impatience, his mouth warm and so very inviting under Adam’s.

It’s not much, this first kiss. A hint of tongue, soft and over way too fast, but it has fireworks going off behind Adam’s eyelids. Before he can overthink what they’re doing, why this, why now, he’s pulling Frank right off his chair and onto the desk, pushing papers and gadgets aside as the tech moans his approval into the rapidly deepening kiss, his fingers digging into the meat of Adam’s shoulders at the man’s casual display of strength.

“How long?” Adam has to ask when his kisses stray to Frank’s jaw. Frank tastes just as good as he smells, his skin warm and surprisingly smooth under Adam’s lips.

“What?” Frank intelligently inquires, shivering ever so slightly under the touch of Adam’s lips and hands — too hard to be organic but oh-so-good all the same. Adam wraps one arm around Frank’s waist, loving the way they fit together, his other hand sneaking under the soft fabric of Frank’s tank top to feel the heat of his skin.

“How long have you been messing with me, _Francis_?” Adam whispers the question against the shell of Frank’s ear, breath tickling, voice scraping like sandpaper. Frank breath catches.

“Couple of months,” is the tech’s answer. Adam laughs into the crook of Frank’s neck. This is just about the last thing he’d expect to happen after the year he’s had, but he’s not about to complain. There’s a hint of disdain in Frank’s next comment, “Didn’t think you’d ever catch up.”

It would be very effective if he weren’t so completely out of breath.

“Just so we’re clear, that was your version of _flirting_?” Adam shoots back. He pulls back to get a look at Frank’s face, at the smug satisfaction in his grin despite the loose strands of hair sticking to his sweaty face. His hands on Adam’s shoulders are gentle.

“It worked, didn’t it? Look where we’re at.”

“Can’t argue that logic,” Adam replies. When Frank’s knees tighten around his hips, he finds himself asking, “What do you want?”

“Anything,” Frank replies without any reluctance, hitching one leg higher around Adam’s waist, pulling the other man in closer. Adam can’t help but roll his hips at the hard heat he finds between Frank’s legs, pressed up against his groin. Frank’s gaze stray towards the lower lip Adam’s biting down on when he asks, “What do _you_ want?”

“Damn it.” Adam leans in for another kiss, but changes his mind in the last second and ends up leaning his forehead against Frank’s with an almost embarrassed, “Wanna fuck you. I really, _really_ want to. I shouldn’t, though. We shouldn’t. Not here.”

Frank must sense Adam is about to step away because he’s tightening his arms and legs around him with an annoyed, “If you go anywhere I’ll punch you, Jensen, I’m not even kidding.”

Adam stifles a laugh, but he’s burying his face into Frank’s neck again, inhaling more of his scent and pressing kisses down the length of the hacker’s throat. “You’re gonna get us both fired,” he tells him even though he’s the one pulling Frank’s tank top to the side so that he can press his teeth to Frank’s shoulder. “Is the door locked?”

“Dunno. Probably,” Frank replies, head falling to the side as if to offer Adam better access to his neck. It’s all the encouragement Adam needs to press bruising kisses wherever he can reach, thinking that Frank will definitely need that turtleneck of his after they’re done. “Nobody- ah- ever comes in here,” Frank argues far too coherently for Adam’s liking.

“That’s because you terrorize the interns,” Adam tells him after a long moment, pulling back to inspect Frank’s neck. Yes, that’s a hickey all right. He’s so proud of himself he’s surprised when he feels Frank’s hand pressing between his legs, finger tightening around his length. Frank circles his thumb right against the tip, through layers of fabric, and it’s perfect. Adam’s hips roll, pushing against the touch with a husky, “Yeah, do that again.”

Frank does it again, and again, palm rubbing over the thick fabric against hard heat. He lets Adam’s bitten-off moans guide his touches, lips parted in an amazed smile as Adam shudders under his ministrations. He can feel every twitch and throb through Adam’s pants. When he finally pulls them open and pushes his hand into Adam’s underwear, his fingers slide against slick and his mouth waters.

“You’re really sensitive, aren’t you?” Frank wonders as he takes Adam in a firm grasp. He starts up a slow but firm rhythm, trying to coax more of those amazing sounds from Adam. “You like that?”

“I like _you_.” It just slips out. As far as retorts go, it’s not Adam’s proudest moment, but he has the excuse of having currently very little blood left in his brain. Frank’s lips brush against Adam’s cheek before descending onto Adam’s neck. He’s moving with undeniable intent now, fingers flicking over the tip of Adam’s cock, tightening when they reach the base, his kisses hard and hot against the coarseness of Adam’s beard. Adam is so hard between his fingers, gasping on every stroke, cock leaking a constant stream of fluid that Frank rubs all over his length as he jerks him off. “If you keep that up, you’re going to make me come,” Adam warns Frank, who smirks to himself.

“Maybe I want you to,” he tells Adam. Adam moans breathlessly at Frank’s words, this shocked, hoarse sound that Frank wants to _devour_. “Can I? Make you come? I’ll make it so good.”

“Yeah.” Adam nods, hips twitching, grinding into Frank’s hand, not trying to push a rhythm, just rolling with it. “Whatever you want.”

Those are dangerous words, indeed. “You have no idea,” Frank tells him, tongue flicking against Adam’s earlobe, “the _things_ I want to do to you.”

Adam is still processing Frank’s words — in that biting, sarcastic tone of his, they sound like the sweetest threat — when Frank pushes off the desk and sinks to his knees at Adam’s feet. One of Adam’s hands end up on top of the desk for purchase while his other rests on Frank’s head.

Frank glowers as if daring Adam to say something. Adam can’t find his voice, however. He can barely breath as it is, because even though at this point he’s ready to roll with pretty much whatever new development life throws at him, he doesn’t know what to do with the sudden knowledge that Francis Pritchard is a fucking _tease_. He goes slow, so very fucking _slow_ — presses a kiss to Adam’s hipbone, his breath warm and moist against his skin, and lingers there for what feels like forever, just breathing, nuzzling into Adam’s lower belly before venturing lower, lower than Adam needs him to. He completely ignores the painfully hard cock twitching right in front of him, his lips just barely brushing Adam’s testicles, all but preening at the tight, gasping sounds Adam can’t help but make.

Adam breathes in through gritted teeth and runs his fingers through Frank’s hair, finds the hair tie behind his head and pulls it off just as Frank licks a hot and wet path of fire around his balls and the base of his dick.

Then, Frank looks up.

Adam would bite his own tongue off before calling Frank Pritchard anything remotely close to handsome, god knows Frank’s ego would probably explode, but Adam also knows that this particular picture — Frank on his knees, face flushed, eyes dark, hair wild — will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Adam holds Frank’s gaze as he licks around the wet tip of his cock with a blissed out look in his eyes. Then he takes Adam’s length into his mouth and Adam closes his eyes at the sensation, hissing. It’s just his luck that Frank fucking _Pritchard_ would be the one to give him the most amazing blowjob of his whole life, really. He’s gasping for breath when he comes, bowing over Frank and cursing when he swallows around his cock, refusing to pull away even though Adam tries to warn him. Frank sucks even harder when he realizes Adam is going to come, works his lips around Adam faster and moans as the first warm spurt floods his mouth. He swallows every drop, going as far as licking Adam clean after he’s done.

Unbelievable, Adam thinks, licking his own taste from Frank’s tongue when Frank stands up on unsteady feet. He shoves a leg between Frank’s, grabs hold of Frank’s ass as the tech rides his thigh and comes in his pants in a matter of minutes, clutching the back of Adam’s head helplessly and moaning into his mouth.

Adam kisses him through his climax and then some more, until his lips feel raw, and smiles at the glazed look in Frank’s eyes when he pulls back. “Well,” he starts. He tightens his arms around Frank’s middle just to make sure the tech has nowhere to hide. The warning glare Frank shoots him is utterly ineffective and Adam proceeds, “I wouldn’t object to making this a regular occurrence. Just so you know.”

Frank rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He says they still have a report to finish, but the way he says it makes a surge of dangerous optimism bubble inside Adam’s chest.

Eventually, they move to Adam’s office to finish up the report, unwilling to subject themselves to another minute inside the sex-scented sauna that the tech lab has become. Adam makes sure to lock the door once they’re in his office, though. Frank pretends he doesn’t notice it or knows the reason for it. The report, five typo-ridden pages long, takes about three more hours to be finished.

**Author's Note:**

> well, I hope that hasn't sucked lol *nudge nudge, wink wink*  
> lemme know your thoughts, all feedback is greatly appreciated <3


End file.
